It Brings Out The Best In Us
by bah-humbug06
Summary: In a world torn by war, two unlikely people, a potions mistress and a soldier, cross paths. sparks fly, chaos ensues... DMGW, RWHG.
1. Life After

A/N: I officially deny all involvement in the establishment of these characters and of this world. They are all JKR's, and I thank her for letting me play with them. Malfoy wishes that I would play with him, too, but as he exists only in print, that would, much to my chagrin, prove rather difficult.

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**It Brings Out The Best In Us** Chapter 1: Life After

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'Good work, Gin.' Ginny Weasley saluted a smiling Ron as she passed by his bed. She was walking down the aisle of the hospital of the Order of the Phoenix, for which she sometimes worked. Ron had been injured in a raid on a camp of Death Eaters. It was nothing serious, but she it had still scared her.

Despite being as qualified as any Healer, they seldom needed her. Since St. Mungo's had been reduced to rubble in a Death Eater raid, Dirkwood Manor Field Hospital had seen an influx of Healers and Mediwitches who were ready and willing to jump into the fight against Voldemort and his supporters.

It had been a difficult fight, all these years. It had been four since Ginny had left school for the last time, mid-way through her seventh year, and three years since Harry had last confronted Voldemort. It had turned into a war of attrition, with teams of Death Eaters using guerilla-style tactics to destroy targets of the resistance movement. Teams from the Order responded in a chiefly defensive manner, and rarely took prisoners.

The government had been taken over by Voldemort and his forces. It was widely believed that Lucius Malfoy had imperiused the Minister Fudge, and that his son, Draco Malfoy, had been appointed, by Fudge, to head up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (DMLE), which governed the aurors. Flint Senior monitored the Floo systems, having been 'elected' Chief Advisor for Magical Transportation, and the head of 'Muggle Relations' was none other than Weatherby Wilkins, a conservative, but politely spoken, young man. Avery, a known Death Eater, was often seen talking to him in his office. But Harry had triumphed. He had found the horcruxes, and had defeated Voldemort.

It was five and a half years since Ginny had first begun learning to despise 'foolish wand waving', having secretly begun an apprenticeship under Severus Snape. It was for these skills that she was now required, being one of only two potions masters currently working for the Order, the other being Snape himself. No one liked to ask him for anything, and so it was left to Ginny to make and deliver the latest batch of lifesaving concoctions.

Setting her box down in the supply room, she released her wand from the concealed auror-issue holder at her wrist, and enlarged the wooden crate. Magicking the vats onto the shelves, she sealed and decreased the crate, before slipping it into her pocket.

'Ready to go, Ron?' she asked fondly, returning to her brother's bedside.

'You bet,' he answered, grimacing as he bent down to tie his shoelaces. 'I've been lying in that damn bed for so long I reckon my legs have forgotten who I am.'

Ginny snorted. 'Oh you big baby, you. You've been in there, what? Two days at the most. Don't think I have no influence. I'll tell Mum that you were injured, if you're not careful, and you wont be allowed out for another month.'

'Ginevra Weasley!' he gasped. 'You wouldn't!' At her unrepentant grin he shoved her lightly. When she shoved him back, he 'oofed' in surprise.

'Don't think that just because you had to regrow a couple of ribs that I'll go easy on you, big brother.'

He ruffled her hair, making her squeal in indignation, before grinning lopsidedly, and apparating out of the hospital.

* * *

'Ginny!' someone called from above.

'Down here!' she yelled back.

'Down where? Despite the rumours, I'm not psychic!'

Ginny frowned. Where was she always at this time of day? Honestly. 'Dungeons. Potions.' She shouted, listening for the thumps on the stairs that signaled the arrival of her guest.

'Oh. Hello Harry.' She turned away from the mop of black hair that had poked through the door.

'Sorry, Gin. I didn't realise you'd be down here.' she rolled her eyes as he smiled wryly. 'We kinda need you upstairs. Ron's gone and done something stupid.' He shrugged his shoulders in an apologetic manner.

Ginny stared down at the swirling purple burn-soothing potion she had been working on. Well, she thought, that's another batch down the drain. There was nothing she could do to save it now. Potions was something that you just couldn't walk away from and expect to be waiting when you got back – more than likely it would have blown up or turned into something entirely foreign if you mistimed anything.

She vanished the contents of the cauldron, muttering profanities under her breath as she wiped her hands on the towel she always had tucked into the back pocket of her tight, yet comfy jeans.

'Merlin. He just got out of hospital.' She stopped short, turning to Harry. 'It's all a conspiracy,' she hissed. 'It's a conspiracy to _drive me out of my mind_.'

And with that, the vivacious woman with flowing red hair ran up the stairs two at a time.

* * *

'Hiya, Ginny!' said Ron, his hand held high in an open wave.

'Hello,' she said slowly, blinking. Nothing seemed amiss. 'Was there anything you needed?'

'Yes, actually,' said the tall redhead, lowering his hand. Well, lowering his arm. His hand stayed suspended in the air above him.

Ginny shrieked. Loudly. And Harry, who was standing behind her in the doorway, burst out laughing, using the frame for support.

'Ron! What the…what the hell have you _done_?!' She gaped in disbelief.

'I splinched. Ran some errands. You could say that I 'forgot myself.'' Harry slid to the floor while Ginny gaped some more, before shaking her head.

'Right. Splinching, splinching. I know how to fix that. You!' she said to Ron. 'You sit your annoying arse up on that bench. But – but grab your – hand – first. I'm too short.'

Complying, Ron proceeded to shake hands with himself. He was having a grand old conversation before Ginny's glare subdued his raucous spirits.

'Geez Gin, you look like Mum when you do that. Stop it.' Ginny glared some more, but his words seemed to click, and her frown released itself.

'Merlin. You're right. It is pretty funny.' And then she reached up and ruffled his hair. 'Could you give me and hand with this Ron?' she said, smirking.

Not to be outdone, Ron responded in kind. 'Why of course,' he said gallantly, bowing as he gave her his hand.

Harry was still on the floor. He wasn't sure his legs would support him if he tried to stand. 'Reckon you could give me a hand up, Ginny?' He asked, before collapsing back on the tiles.

Two cracks resounded in the hallway.

'What's all this then?' asked Fred (or was it George?) as the pair entered the kitchen. 'Whoa...do you see what I see, Brother One?' he said to his twin.

'I think I do, Brother Two. I think we have landed ourselves in a _de-handing_ situation.' The incorrigible pair joined Harry on the floor. '_De-handing_, get it? Demanding…de-handing.'

'Right. You lot: out! Now! Or I'm calling Mum!' With Ginny's dire warning, all the boys save Ron scarpered. Their guffaws could be heard echoing down the hall.

'Oh you silly boy Ron,' she said tenderly, as she magicked him back together, snapping his wrist back in place.

'Ow!' he complained. 'All right, I know: Shut up, Ron.'

'You're learning,' Ginny said wryly. 'Off with you now. No more antics for at least a day with that hand. And no apparating, or it'll come off again. No, don't look at me like that. You can't go on patrol if you're hands liable to fall off the moment you need it. This is war. No risks.'

Ron grimaced, then smiled. He bent down to give her a smacking kiss on the cheek. 'Thanks, Gin. I'd be lost without you.'

'No, you'd be handless without me.'

* * *

The Order of the Phoenix had continued to exist after the death of Albus Dumbledore, and was now headed by a Council of fifteen members, rather than an elected leader. They met every Friday night at 11 pm in the dining room of Grimmauld place to discuss matters and formulate battle plans and team rosters for the next week.

Ginny hid her frown as the group sidled into the meeting room. Of course, she hadn't been allowed to truly join the Order after she had left school. She had been too young, too fragile. Heaven forbid she learn that people died, or that Riddle was killing every night of the week. Heaven Forbid she actually helped with the war, rather than just make potions to fix it. Heaven forbid she use the knowledge she had gained after having Riddle in her head for a year.

But after proving her usefulness on a number of occasions, and overcoming their measures to keep unwanted ears out of their meetings (by following them in under the invisibility cloak she stole off Harry), majority ruled and her mother's objections were silenced. Bill had been most vocal on the subject, and it was he who took extra long in holding open the door to the room so Ginny could enter. She was not silent though; Bill asked her advice on things though, asked her what she thought 'old Moldywarts' would be doing, and so her opinions were passed on through him. She was grateful to have one sane family member at least.

Merlin, had she been grateful for Bill when the family had found out about her 'indiscretions.' Her tutelage under Professor Snape had been kept secret from all but Dumbledore, and had come as a great shock to the family.

Early in her fifth year, Ginny had asked Professor Mcgonagall why they were still learning how to turn pincushions into curtains when war was on their doorstep. Needless to say, that did not go down well.

So she asked the cranky potions professor the same question. In return she had received a raised eyebrow. An intrigued raised eyebrow.

'Surely, Miss Weasley, you have no need to enter the war effort yourself? Do you not have all your brothers to fight the war?'

'I know I will never be allowed to actually fight – I'm not that naïve. The least I can do is help some other way, rather than learn to _type_, as my mother suggested to me the other day.' In a fit of what must have been madness, and was most certainly anger, she slammed both her hands on the Professor's desk.

'Take me in. teach me. Lecture me. Do what you will. But make me into a potions master. Make me into someone _useful_.'

Snape stared at her for a long time.

'A pupilage is not to be taken lightly, Miss Weasley. It is a binding contract between a teacher and his student, and it must be fulfilled.'

'I know.'

'Well then. That is settled. Act like normal next lesson, and I will give you detention. Meanwhile, I shall speak to the Headmaster.' He glanced down at her hands. 'You may stop leaning on the desk, Miss Weasley. I have agreed.'

He told her only many years later that he agreed to teach her because she was 'one of the least dunderheaded students' he had met, and had exhibited an 'astute ability to judge character' when criticising the teaching of Professor Mcgonagall.

She really did like the snarky old man.

* * *

'What do you mean, what should we do? We do what we have always done – we take His forces down,' an irate Arthur Weasley said. At this, Harry stood and paced jerkily around the room, face clenched in thought. After some moments, he faced the crowded room.

'We can't just – defend – anymore. This is war. You didn't see Voldemort waiting around for us to come and get him. You didn't see him _stun_ people for Merlin's sake. He…he _acts_. We have to react. We-'

'Harry, no! Listen to yourself. What you are suggesting would make us just as bad as them. They are unforgivable for a reason. We can't-'

'Why not? How can you continue to hide behind this moral high ground when families, children, good, innocent people are dying every day _because we do not have the guts_ to act decisively. If we come out, guns blazing, we can defeat them. This is war, Arthur. We will never win if we hide away.'

Arthur stood again. As did every one else, it seemed. Arms were flailing in the air, and voices climbed ever higher in an attempt to be heard. For Merlin's sake, thought Ginny. It's no wonder we can't win; they're acting like babies! Right. It was time to make herself heard. She stood up on her chair.

'Shut up, you lot! SHUT UP!' Her potions text collided with the table, and the bang had an instantaneous effect. 'Harry's right. We can't keep taking prisoners, if our own forces will be jeopardised by doing so. We-' Hermione stepped up on to her chair as well.

'This is war. I know wizards don't have all that much practice at war, but muggles do. We have to end this as quickly as possible. There are a good three or four thousand death eaters out there still to track down. But they've lost all hope. They will have no qualm with dying for their cause. They will have no qualm with killing for it, either. We have to protect our own, and if that means killing, then I'm all for it.' Harry picked up the thread, and brought the speech to a deafening end.

'We can't stun people anymore, and let them go back to their camp. We have to get smarter. We have to let our teams do as they were trained to do – to fight. Anyone who objects can leave!' and with that, he sat down, and began looking through his papers. 'So,' he said, his tone business-like. 'Who is in favour of sending teams Alpha and Theta to DE camp 2 on 17th December? Informant 336 has indicated that a revel will be occurring there that night, where a host of muggle slave girls will be raped, tortured and quartered. 336 will not be in attendance. But informant 243 will be there, but we can sort that out later.' He looked around the room expectantly. One by one, the bewildered Council sat, and raised their hands in support of the motion.

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A/N: this is my first bash at this type of writing. Please review and let me know what you think, even if you hate it. Cheers! 


	2. Toujours Pur

A/N: this is completely AU. I hold no allegiance to Canon, and shall do what I will with these characters. For the record, these characters are not mine, but rather belong to JKR. I have a group on Yahoo! Groups. Do visit/join up. It is currently under construction, but will eventually be a comprehensive list of all the best fanfiction, and shall serve as a place to discuss HP as you will.

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It Brings Out The Best In Us Chapter 2: Toujours Pur

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Ginny stared at herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin looked tired and dry. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, because naturally, her mother had lectured her to kingdom come about how she should let those "who know about these things" deal with them. She flicked her wand, and the darkness disappeared. Another flick, and her freckles were gone. Her red locks became a pale mousy brown. Her cheekbones became more prominent, and her jaw receded. 

Tonight was the night of the revel. You couldn't be too careful.

'Ron? Are you there?' she called as she walked into the ballroom that had been converted into a fully functional combat training facility. 'I'm just telling you that I'm going now. I've already signed out.' Before you could leave Order HQ you had to sign yourself out, giving a rough estimate of when you would return.

Ron looked up at her from his position on the floor where he was tying his boots. 'Ginny?' he asked, confused. 'You're not coming with us, are you? Harry didn't put you down…'

'Don't worry, Ron. I'm just going out to get some potion's ingredients. We're running low on a few. I'll be back in a few hours, tops.'

'Ginny, its dangerous out there – the raid's on tonight.' Ginny growled in frustration. It was always like this. Generally, she stayed in the house, only traveling to other secure locations. The one time she needed to go shopping…

'Ron, this is probably the safest time for me to be out. All the DEs will be with you guys. Plus, I know how to take care of myself. I've had the same training as you, and everyone is wary of my infamous Bat Bogey hex. No.' She held up a hand. 'Ron, don't even suggest it. No one can go in my stead, because no one else knows what to buy. Ok? Ill see you when I get back.' Finished, she turned, and began to walk away. But suddenly, she flung herself into her brother's strong arms and hugged him tightly.

'Be careful, ok? Don't do anything stupid, and bring back all your body parts.'

'I will, Gin. Love you.'

'Love you too. Now go kick some arse'

Leaving her brother to prepare with his team, Ginny slung her satchel full of empty vials and crates onto her shoulder, before slipping past the kitchen (where her mother was cooking, much to the elves' chagrin) and out the front door.

* * *

It was spooky, Ginny decided, to be in Knockturn Alley at four o'clock in the afternoon. There was an air of disquiet and emptiness, though all the usual suspects littered the street with their filth and dirt. 

A wheezing warlock tried to hack her arm with a rusty knife caked in Merlin-knows-what, and a withered hag offered her the blood of a baby unicorn for her hair. Dark figures watched silently as she passed, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

Pushing her discomfort to the back of her mind, Ginny slid onto her face the dissatisfied, haughty look she had mastered after spending too much time in Snape's company. The look that screamed breeding, that indicated that you had places to be, the look that said 'don't mess with me.' It wouldn't do to walk down this part of Wizarding London looking as though you didn't belong, even if you were in disguise.

She picked her way through the cobblestone streets, dodging the indigent and the hawkers. Reaching the door of Slager & Finch's Apothecary, she paused to take a deep breath, before entering the shop. It was he only place left in the area. Flitwiggle's had shut down, as had the Hogsmeade franchise. There were still some on the Continent, of course, but transcontinental apparitions were still being monitored. Slager & Finch's, the potions equivalent to Borgin & Burke's for the Dark Arts, was all that remained.

The shop smelt musty, as though it hadn't been cleaned out in many years. Which, knowing the proprietors, it probably hadn't.

A bell tinkled ominously as the door shut behind her. Struggling not to look behind her, she made her way over to the stacks, and began filling her containers with the requisite ingredients. Peering through the jars, she could just make out the counter, where Slager, the proprietor, was dealing with a customer. He was standing very still, looking down his nose at the quivering potions supplier, who was bent in supplication. The man turned and stared at her, searchingly. There was something about that face. She knew it from somewhere…

'Fuck,' she cursed loudly, as a vial dropped to the floor. The valerian went everywhere, making her cough. Hurriedly, she magicked the fine powder into another vial, placing it safely in her bag.

Getting rid of the glass was not difficult, but it was embarrassing. Forced to endure that man's glare made you feel a fool regardless of you're foolishness. Draco Malfoy was a powerful man; his wealth, position, and looks made strong men quake and long to be saved.

She wondered if his next destination would be Malfoy Manor.

Banishing such thoughts from her mind (Who knew how competent a legilimens he was?), Ginny continued to gather her ingredients, all the while trying to listen in on Malfoy's conversation. His voice was low and as hard and as cold as carved ice.

'I expected service from you, Slager.' The man nodded his head jerkily. Dust clung to the sweat at his brow.

'Y-yes, my lord.'

'Do I have to tell you again?'

'No, My Lord. O-on the full moon, I promise.'

'Good. Toujours Pur, Mr. Slager.'

'Toujours Pur, My Lord.'

Draco Malfoy took a final look around the room, his eyes landing on Ginny. She quickly averted her gaze, fumbling with the last of her ingredients. Her eyes fluttered shut as she recited potions ingredients. She could feel him in her mind. Searching…searching…but finding nothing.

Relief washed over her as he strode out the door. She would have to thank Snape again for his aid in teaching her occlumency. It had proved itself invaluable time and time again.

'Can I help you with anything, Miss…?' asked the salesman suggestively, having regained his calm collectiveness upon Malfoy's exit.

'Just these, thank you.'

'To whom should I bill?'

'Let me see the bill first,' she ordered. Her eyes scanned over the calculations. The dirty cheating little slytherin. 'I wont pay that for the lacewings, nor for the Sargasso singfly. They are hardly, how would you say…rare.' She handed the paper back to Mr. Slager, saying, 'I will give you fourteen galleons for the lot.'

'How now, I simply cannot be allowing that. I have a business to run. I have children to feed, stock to purchase…'

'You have only a wife, no children. In fact, I would go so far as to say you were impotent. Do not lie to me. And do not presume that I care about your financial status. If you are doing business with the Malfoys, you have no shortage of capitol.' She raised an eyebrow, sneering. 'Now, am I going to give you my fourteen galleons, or shall I take my business to the continent? The Bulgarians get so snitchy if I choose the Germans over them.' Slager paled. If she could easily travel to the German traders, she must have influence…all the more reason to keep her on side.

'Of course, Ms.…what did you say you were called?'

'Fourteen galleons?'

'Of course.'

'Toujours Pur, Mr. Slager.'

'T-Toujours Pur.'

* * *

Leaving the apothecary, Ginny felt slightly ill. She had used the death eater's catch cry. Sure, it was designed to stop her form being captured or killed, but it was still a shock to the system. She hoped it was worth it… 

Shakily, she made her way down Knockturn Alley, turning corners blindly. It was dark now, the only light coming from the few shops still legally open. She bumped into something, and received loud curses in return.

It was late. She had been gone five hours at least. The raid on the gathering at Malfoy Manor should be underway, and her heart clenched. Would they be all right? Would they all come home?

Mind firmly on her family, she decided to visit one of the bookstores. She only rarely got the chance to explore them, especially since they were filled to the brim with dark arts books…but it never hurt to know what the enemy was doing. There might even be something useful. And anyway, she was a potions mistress. If any field was connected to the dark arts, it was potions.

Hoisting her now heavy bag, she pushed open the door to the shop. If anything could distract her from the dangers of the night it would be some riveting, saucy potions book…

* * *

A couple of hours later, Ginny left the store, text in hand. There had been some truly fascinating, though gory, research done in Florence during the fifteenth century. An ancient wizard had apparently punished his would-be assassinators by feeding them a potion that melted their bodies onto the wall on which they were hung. You can still see the impression today, of three bodies, caught in their moment of death, forever… 

Of course, for all his scheming, this wizard had been ruined financially; such ingredients did not come cheap.

The sky was truly dark now. Hurrying towards a secluded alley, Ginny pulled out her wand, and apparated into the foyer of Grimmauld Place.

This was not the Order HQ she had disapparated from. There was no one there. No one had returned yet. Was that a good thing? The worry prickled in her belly. Either they had captured many…or they were all dead. The thought made her blanch.

'Mum?' she called. 'Dad?'

Still no response.

Cautiously, she made her way down the hall, searching the rooms as she passed.

'Hello? HELLO? Is anyone here?'

'Ginevra?' Someone hissed. It sounded as if it were coming form the kitchen. 'Perfect timing.' She knew that voice.

'Severus?' she called as she burst through the kitchen door.

The sight that befell her took her breath away. Sitting on her counter was a tall man. His robes glistened in the candlelight, and his pale hair was streaked with red. Holding him upright was the potions professor. He had heard her come in, and, turning, welcomed her.

'Thank Merlin it is you and not some dunderheaded relative - '

Her gaze passed between the two men. 'Severus? Malfoy?'

'You! You're that girl - ' that girl? What girl? Oh, the appearance changes. Flicking her wand, her appearance returned to normal. Surprise lit Malfoy's face.

'A Weasley? The littlest Weasley. You're a healer right? How convenient. I seem to have had a little…accident.'

And with that, he collapsed forward, unconscious, onto the already-bloody potions professor.

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A/N: Review Review… 


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